Estranger
by Nachtfuchs
Summary: How far would you go to safe the one you love? For Freed the answer comes easy. He would do anything. The stupider, the better. He would walk through hell and back, if it made any difference. Name the price, he'd pay it, without realizing what it will realy cost him.


**AN: Long time no see. (^_^;) Yeah, I am back. Sorry for the letting you wait. Again. Live kinda got in the way of writting. I finished School and started Nursing School. But now that I made it through my probation period I want to pick up writting again. **

**"Estranger" is for me to get back into the game. **

**Some months ago I read the story Moving On (Or Not ) by Yaoi Clown and I was intrigued with the story line since if Freed stayed behind? Well, here is my version on what might have happened, with a different take on Freed's background.**

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**Estranger**

_Here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows  
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)  
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart_

_i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)_

**(From "i carry your heart with me" by E.E. Cummings)**

**Chapter One: The Resolve**

Freed woke up. He blinked at the sun streaming through the windows of the deserted Guild Hall and enjoyed the cozy feeling of empty peace. Though, he dully noted, that it was definitely alcohol related. He felt quite content and for a few seconds the world was how it used to be.

Then the memories invaded his mind again. They came crashing down on him like a landslide, weighing him down and making his heart heavy with grief. He was unable to move, but that was just as well, for there was no reason to get up. Not anymore anyway.

So Freed stayed where he was, sitting on one of the benches in the far corner with his cheek resting on the sticky table in front of him. That's how he must have crashed last night after getting wasted yet again. Like every day since they had discontinued the search for survivors. Because the simple and painful truth was that there were none.

It had been what – eleven months and still he remembered it as clearly as if it had happened just yesterday. Freed had seen the signal flare from the shore and had raced over the sea as fast as his magical wings would carry him. All in vain. As he neared the island he saw the black dread looming over it. The blast attack was already forming between its opened jaws. Freed had speed up in a last attempt to reach his friends, but it was too late. The dragon let its roar loose. The sheer force of the blast had thrown Freed backwards into the water and the currents had pulled him down. As he finally struggled back to the surface, spluttering and coughing, everything had been over. The ocean was deadly calm and Tenrou Island and everyone on it had been eradicated by the Black Dragon Acnologia. There was no way anyone could survive this attack. They were all dead. Laxus was dead. So were Bixlow and Ever and Mira and Master -

"Knew we would find you here."

Freed lifted his head lazily from the table to find Macao Combolt and Wakaba Mine standing in front of him.

"What's the occasion?" he slurred upon realizing they were dressed up in matching black suits.

Macao shook his head and sighted, before he said: "Bisca and Al are getting married in an hour. It's been planned for weeks. They exchange vows in Kardia Cathedral and afterwards there is the feast at the 8-Island. Yajima-san offered it as wedding present, you know … Now get up and make yourself presentable!"

He held another suit out to Freed, who eyed it skeptical.

"Is that an order, Master?" retorted Freed, not caring how sarcastic he sounded.

"Well – actually yes," said Macao a little abashed. "Yes, it's an order. I mean, look at yourself! You are mess, Freed."

Freed gave a hollow chuckle in response. He didn't need a mirror to know that Macao was right. He probably had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, his hair must have been greasy and matted and most likely he smelled like he had slept in a dumpster.

When was the last time he washed, he wondered. Freed wasn't sure whether tripping head first into the canal some days ago counted or not.

But the way he looked was nothing compared to the way he felt. Inside he was not only a mess, no, he was torn asunder and no matter what he did, there was no way to comfort it. Alcohol only numbed the pain and drowned the memories for a while. But those bastards were good swimmers. Sooner or later they surfaced again - which reminded him.

"I need a drink," said Freed and lurched awkwardly to his feet. He stumbled a few steps forward, but, as Wakaba tried to steady him, he swatted the man's hand away.

"Freed, look, we only want to help," said Macao. Wakaba nodded in agreement.

Freed ignored them and continued towards the bar, swaying with every step. He clutched onto the counter as he reached it and stared blurry-eyed at the liquor shelf, before choosing a bottle marked with XXX closest to him. The hell with manners, he thought and simply unstopped it with his teeth and spat the cork on the floor. Freed gulped down about a quarter of the bottle, before he looked at Macao and Wakaba again.

"Don't you have anything better to do, than stand here and gawp at me all day?"

"We are not leaving here without you," said Macao and held out the suit again. "So you better get changed, because otherwise we will have to force you."

"Force me?" Freed gave a humorless chuckle and took another gulp from the bottle. "I like to see you try."

He saw the anger and frustration well up in Macao as his mouth tightened into a grim line, but Freed was beyond caring.

"Freed," said Macao through clenched teeth, "this is not about you. Today is Bisca's and Al's big day. They are getting married, damn it! So pull yourself together for some hours at least. Do it for them! Look, we want to help you, but you making this really hard for us. I know how you feel. Believe me, we all do. You are not alone, understood? "

"Hollow words, if you ask me. Is that what you are telling your son, too?" retorted Freed and knew even before Macao struck him in the face, that he had definitely crossed the line. Freed tumbled backwards against the shelf. He still wasn't in full control of his legs so had to hold onto it for support.

"Guess I deserved that," admitted Freed. He moved his jaw experimentally and took a swig of liquor to wash down the taste of blood. "Though, you have to admit that I wasn't wrong either."

"Why, you - " Macao was advancing on him again with clenched fists. This time Wakaba held him back.

"You are kinda being a bitter asshole wallowing in self-pitty, if you don't mind me saying so," commented Wakaba. "As Macao said; this is not only about you. This whole guild is a mess."

He made a sweeping gesture with his hands. A gesture that took in everything. The big deserted hall with its empty tables and benches. The requests boards, once overflowing with job offers, where now only some flimsy sheets of paper dangled. The dust that had settled on most surfaces and the distinct fall into disuse. The silence, accompanied by deep sadness, that weighted on everything and had crawled even into the hindmost niche. The looming absence of Them.

No one said anything, though Macao was still glowering at Freed. Wakaba on the other hand began to clean his pipe with deliberate motions. Freed judged, that the man wasn't done with his lecture. That he was only collecting his thoughts. Freed sipped his liquor listlessly. It had started to taste stale. If Wakaba was preparing for a longer speech, he would definitely need another bottle. Something stronger at any rate.

The seconds seemed to stretch into a disquieting eternity, before Wakaba lit his pipe and blew some smoke rings into the air between them. He exhaled long and deep, then he said:

"I already hate how this is going to sound, but some things need to be said."

He looked over to Freed as if daring him to interrupt. Freed shrugged slightly in response, not even meeting his gaze.

"A whole lot of guild members have left us for various reasons. By latest counts we are down to about a dozen active mages. There are not many job requests coming in and we are already behind with the rent. As it stands we will not be able to maintain the guild building much longer. What are they going to say, if they get back and find the guild in shambles …

So we really need the old Freed back. You are the strongest remaining mage and somehow everyone is counting on you to turn this around. They won't say so, because they see what state you are in, but deep down they believe in you. That's why they nominated you for the post of the temporary guild master in the first place. You reclined straightaway, I know, and Macao took over for the time being. We all have to agree that he isn't quite the right choice."

"Excuse me!" called Macao halfhearted.

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" continued Wakaba. "It's just that nobody else was brave or dumb enough to take the post."

"Damn you, Wakaba! I -" But Macao wasn't able to finish. He wasn't even mad. If anything he looked beaten and his eyes began to moisten. It took Macao a lot of willpower to speak again. When he did his voice was heavy with the tears he was weeping.

"We need someone strong to guide us and we all believe you to be this someone. It certainly isn't me. Gods, I just said yes, because nobody else would. You need to pull yourself together, for us or else the rest of the guild will fall apart as well. Please, you are not alone with your grief. They were our friends as well. We know how you fe-"

"You know how I feel? Nonsense," said Freed in a deadly whisper.

All through this conversation he hadn't looked at the two of them, not really. He had seen through them, past them. Hoping to avoid eye contact for as long as possible. For he had not wanted to let them see.

But now he looked them dead in the eye. His gaze was positively unsettling and made Macao and Wakaba back away slightly. There was only emptiness in his eyes. Looking into them was like falling. Falling endlessly into void and drowning in despair.

"You don't have the slightest idea of how I feel. I have lost everything. Everything."

He thought of Them then and of Laxus above all. His absence hit him every time he became truly aware of it like a blow in the chest.

"You know, I wish I had been there," said Freed. "Not, because I think I could have saved them, but to die with them."

"They are not dead, " uttered Macao. He seemed helpless faced with such words."We have to believe."

Freed could only laugh in response. It was a hollow sound with no mirth in it at all. It was chilling to the bone.

"You were not there. You did not see this monster and what it is capable of. I did," said Freed. H e thought this a good time as any to down the rest of the bottle in one go. "Believe me, when I tell you they are dead."

"You've given up on them?"asked Wakaba.

Freed was tired of this conversation. He was tired of life as well. Sadly it seemed he was too much of a coward to end it. Maybe he thought, he deserved to suffer, for loving someone he shouldn't have. For breaking the Love Laws, that lay down who should be loved and how much. Some things, Freed supposed, came with their own punishment.

"Do not condemn me," whispered Freed. "I would walk straight through hell if-"

The bottle, Freed was still holding, slipped from his hand and landed with a crash on the floor as a sudden notion struck him. Why hadn't he thought of this before? Had he been so grief-stricken, so damn self-centered, not to see the answer to rescue them? Apparently yes. All along salvation lay in hell. She would demand a price. An outrageous one, no doubt. And he would pay it.

Macao and Wakaba were looking at him deeply worried. They didn't dare to address him. They waited for Freed to continue, at the same time fearing his words. Like he was a man standing too close to the gaping abyss. One who had the tendency to tumble over at any given moment. And they were right. In a way he was. Freed hoped it was not late to take leap of faith.

Freed moved then with a new determination. He walked past a stunned Wakaba and Macao. He kept moving down the aisle between the benches, pushed open the heavy front-doors as he reached them and strode onwards.

"Freed, where are you going?" called Macao after him.

Without turning or changing his pace, Freed replied: "T o hell."

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**Thoughts and Critism are as always appriciated!**


End file.
